


A soft embrace from a rough man

by amerens



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Also Frank's arms ugh, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Short Story, This pair ruins me, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerens/pseuds/amerens
Summary: Frank is there for Karen when she needs him to.





	A soft embrace from a rough man

Karen is making dinner for two. She’s wearing the Strokes t-shirt she sleeps in and her hair is in the same knot she made before going to bed last night. It’s been dark outside for a couple hours now. The lights in her apartment are dimmed. She's feeling a little bit nervous, she somehow expects he’ll come by tonight, wants him to, desperately.

So now she isn’t focused at all. Stirring sauce while blankly staring at the white tiles on the kitchen wall. Her thoughts are with him. She wonders if he had a tough day, that when he comes to her door -if he comes to her door- she’ll see bruised man with tired eyes.

Or maybe he’ll climb trough the window, because he’s probably a little paranoid he’s being followed once again. Groaning while doing so and collapsing on her floor, a big blood stain on his vest.

Because that’s how it's been going the last couple weeks. He’ll come by when he needs her to patch him up. She’d always ask him to stay, verbally, or with her eyes. Sometimes he’d crash on her couch, but only if it was late at night already. Most times, tough, he’d say thank you and leave.

Today she needs him to be here. She needs his presence, to change the feelings of guilt and fear and sadness into ones that don’t made her want to finish the bottle of scotch by herself and then hide in her bed to cry the day away in her dark bedroom.

Having him in her apartment made her feel safe, a serene feeling would lay over her like a blanket that numbed out all the dark things that went on in her head.  
She has feelings for him. She was able to ignore those before, but after, or actually during the last time he came around, she finally admitted it to herself.

He came because he wanted a haircut. Now, Karen is fully aware he has been perfectly able to do his hair on his own for the last year or so. The visit had been purely for her and his need for her attention.

The corners of Karen’s mouth twitch at the memory. She moves on to the chopped meat for the pasta bolognese and sighs, losing hope every minute.

They had hugged, also. Just before he walked out. Instead of giving her his grateful-but-afraid-to-get-to-close-nod and saying that she had to be careful, he had taken the initiative by grasping her arm softly and pulling her closer. It was very unsure and very new, for him. He treated her like she could break if he moved too fast or too rough. She had wrapped her arms around his neck with as much carefulness he had. His hand caressed her back and they had swayed a little. It had made Karen feel warm, so warm.

After, he had looked at her with something in his eyes. As if he had realised it too, and also felt that mabye it was time. But then again, maybe that’s only what she wanted to see.

There's some cluttering, and then her door opens. Her heart is immediately in her throat. How could she be so dumb to not lock her door. Her gun. Where did she leave her gun?  
She hears familiar footsteps. Heavy and watchful. It was him.

‘‘Frank?’’

Appearing from around the corner and leaning against the wall, it’s Frank. She lets the air in her lungs go, a wave of relief washes over her. Simultaneously, she feels tiny little butterflies gather in low in her abdomen. She’s is happy he’s here.

His expression had softened a bit at the sight of her cooking in her sweatpants and the overall state of her, but his eyes are a little harsh, concerned. Maybe he knows what today is, maybe he’s mad about the door.

‘‘Hi.’’ she says soft, not sure what the man's mood was going to be.

Brown eyes look at her and her blue ones look back, anticipating.

‘‘Hey.’’ Just a flash of a smile appears on his face and his eyebrow raises slightly. She feels her smile reach all the way up to her eyes and she looks back to the stove.

‘‘Hope you’re hungry, you’re eating spaghetti a la Page,’’ she says, mimicking some sort of Italian accent. Franks huffs and his eyes leave her to look sideways, smiling the way only he could.

He gets rid of his jacket, hanging it neatly over the back of her sofa. From what she can see in the corner of her eye he isn’t limping or giving her the expression he’s hurt somehow.

‘‘How are you feeling?’’ She asks, trying to get him to talk. Even though they’re both comfortable with silence, she wants to hear his voice right now.

‘‘Been worse.’’ He says and his dark and gruffy voice has the same effect on her it always has.

‘‘How about you though? Got halfway this bottle all by yourself?’’

The worry in his voice puts her on the edge, she was able to be strong all throughout the day, but having someone, having Frank, to be concerned over her puts her guard right down. Frank knows her on a deeper level, knows the things she’s done and understands her, gets her.  
Karen turns her head, looking at Frank, who is leaning against the kitchen island, and at the referred bottle.

‘‘Yeah.. yeah I’m fine.’’ Karen sniffs as she turns back to put the gas down a bit.

‘‘Tell me?’’ He must’ve seen it in her eyes.

She hadn’t intended to lie to him, there was no reason to actually. ‘‘It’s been a year since I killed Wesley.’’

A year since she shot a man seven times in his chest, a year since she stopped being an innocent who hadn’t much to hide. Today was an anniversary of that day that changed her forever.

She isn’t looking at Frank, trying to concentrate on the cooking.

She isn’t looking when she feels his warmth behind her. Hears his breath in her ear.  
Arms make their way around her waist and he embraces her. Back against his chest, careful as always.

Karen isn’t wearing her heels and Frank is still in his boots, so now he is taller than her. Their bodies fit each other like puzzle pieces. The tension in her muscles caused by the uncertainty of what was happening releases as she relaxes completely into him. The blankets she was planning to curl herself into are nothing compared to this. Never having felt so safe and protected in her life. His warm and muscled body a shield that will protect her from all that is bad in the world.

He rests the side of his head softly to hers and she is done. The first tears of the day leave her eyes as she sniffs again. ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a mess.’’

Frank hums disapprovingly.‘‘No. You’re not a mess Karen. I've never known someone as strong as you are, okay?’’

Karen looks down and caresses her hands over Franks bare arms. They are soft. Sure, being Frank’s, they’re marked with scars and healing bruises, but Karen always admires the toned skin. Tracing her fingers over his muscles that shape his arms and to his knuckles, she saves the view of his defined arms around her to hold on to later. She joins her hands with his. They’re rough, but soft at the same time, and maybe that’s exactly what Frank is, a rough man, and a soft man.

Franks moves his head down, looking at their hands. ‘‘Okay?’’ he mumbles softly.

Karen breathes out and a small smile forms on her lips. ‘‘Okay.’’

Frank presses his lips to her shoulder and kisses her there. ‘‘Good.’’

 

Frank stays for dinner, and after dinner.

Of course he calls her out on not locking her door. They don’t talk about Wesley though, nothing to discuss. Frank is there for her and he puts her alcohol induced mood in a rather good one.

In the following weeks, hugging each other would become a more regular thing. They both desire love from somebody that they trust, feel safe with and that knows their secrets. They were the only ones to give each other exactly that.

They would also touch one another in more and more in general. His hand would be on her lower back when they leave the apartment and hers would be on his arm when she cleans the blood of his face. His fingers would mindlessly draw circles on her hip when they’re on the couch together and hers would be softly playing with the growing hair on the back of his head.

Their relationship would evolve into one of lovers. It would happen at their own slow pace. They wouldn’t really talk about it either, both knowing what was happening and letting it go the way it would go. (Of course, there was the sexual tension too, but they’d get to that later). They would fight as well, but when they would hug each other after, they would use two hands and they would never let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! It's my first kastle fic and I wrote it when I was sick in bed lol. Anyway, I'll give you pennies if you share your thoughts ;)


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